


Camaraderie

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [156]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Gen, M/M, More angst, and then they become downright idiotic and sweet, another alternative meeting, kinda angsty, mention of suicidal thoughts, then not so angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 10,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>camaraderie: noun: kahm-RAH-duh-ree: mutual trust and friendship among people who spend a lot of time together.</p><p>from Merriam Webster:</p><p>"Camaraderie made its first appearance in English in the middle of the 19th century. It comes from camarade, the French word whose Middle French ancestor was also the source for our word comrade. In Middle French, camarade was used to mean "roommate," "companion," or "a group sleeping in one room." It derived by way of Old Spanish from the Late Latin camera, or camara, meaning "chamber." We also have the word comradery, which means the same thing as camaraderie but did not take the same etymological route as its synonym. That word, formed by attaching the -ry suffix (as found in wizardry and citizenry) to comrade, didn't appear in English until almost 40 years after camaraderie."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From an early age, Sherlock preferred his own company; he discovered early on that his peers saw him as odd, and adults weren't comfortable in his presence, especially after that disastrous 7th birthday party, which he hadn't really wanted. Not really. But sometimes, as he walked though London on his own, he would see groups of people, obviously happy; laughing, smiling, arm in arm; or simply spot a couple leaning into each other, moments from a kiss, and suddenly miss the simple camaraderie that other people take for granted. Then he would chide himself, how could you miss something you've never had and probably would never have. He would shrug down into his coat and walk until he could out think his loneliness, then return to Baker Street and sleep for two days, or until Lestrade texted him with a case.

John, for all his apparent social niceties and above average 'normal' qualities, would rather be at home, well, perhaps not 'home', but somewhere peaceful where he could be still, reading a book, his feet in someone's lap, than in a rowdy pub among 'friends' as he was that Friday night; he pushed back from the bar and nodded a good night to his companions and walked out into the rain. He pulled up his collar and sighed, not looking forward to going back to his bleak bedsit. He had been one of those people who could fit in anywhere, could make friends with anyone, but at heart was a loner. He had learned from early on not to trust anyone, as the people who were supposed to love him, take care of him, support him had let him down over and over until he simply decided not to need anyone...geez...can you be anymore of a whinging arse? He shook his head and stepped onto the sidewalk where he was almost run down by a tall, elegant bloke who muttered a gruff, "Sorry." He'd obviously been walking for hours, John had never seen anyone so wet in his life.

"Hey, uhm, this may sound presumptuous, but my bedsit is just on the next street, do you want to uhmm...oh never mind..."

"What?"

"You just look wet and miserable, I can make a cuppa while you warm up...just thought...bad idea..."

"No, uhm, I mean, yes. Hell, I'd like that very much...Sherlock Holmes."

"John Watson."

They fell in step, in spite of the height difference and John's limp, and silently made their way through the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an additional chapter by request ;)

"It's uhm...not much, I don't usually have company, but I think I may have a few biscuits..."

"It's fine...I don't usually...uhm..."

"Go home with strangers?" John turned to look at his companion and smirked a bit.

"No. I don't usually get asked."

"Oh."

"Well, here we are..." He opened the door and prayed he hadn't left any clothes on the floor.

"Interesting...late modern gray military pension quarters?"

"Got it in one."

"Here let me take your coat, I'll go put on the kettle."

Sherlock sat in the one chair available and sighed. He looked around and could deduce absolutely nothing. There was nothing to deduce, besides the war injury, he had spotted the dog tags that identified John Watson as a medic/captain. He can't quite let it go, wants to be of use, but feels useless...possibly picks up the odd locum shift...makes just enough from his pension to drink at the local on Friday nights...

"Tea should be up soon. Your name is unusual, think I've read about you...something to do with Scotland Yard?"

"Sometimes I help them out. They call me in after they've destroyed most of the useful evidence..."

"Must be frustrating."

"I can still usually point them in the right direction, they miss most of the easy stuff."

"Ah- there's the kettle-sugar?"

"Two spoons, please?"

"Afghanistan?"

"What?"

"You were in Afghanistan."

"Yep."

"Uhm..."  
"If you want..."

"Go ahead-"  
"No, please. Sorry, I'm not used to small talk."

"Good. I hate small talk. I was going to say, if you wanted a shower, I could throw your...oh geez...those can't go in the dryer.."

"No. I'd love a shower, though...they drip dry pretty well, my tailor understands me."

"I could order Thai or Indian? If you want to eat something, after all that walking, you must be starving."

"My treat, order whatever you want, use my card- shower?"

"Just down the hall, make sure you lock it, otherwise someone may invade. Here's a bathrobe, may be a little short on you, but better than nothing."

"Ta."

John sat in his chair and sipped at his tea. He called up his favourite Indian place and ordered enough for an army, his new friend(?), could at least eat some of the dessert, seemed to have a sweet tooth...he was lost in thought as Sherlock reentered the room.

"Nice legs."

"Hmm?"

"Sorry. I didn't realize how short it would be on you, I have sweats and a jumper if you feel, uhm..."

"Exposed?"

John laughed. And he realized he hadn't laughed in months. Not really.

Sherlock grinned and ruffled his hair, unused to over the counter hair products, he wondered how his hair would rebel.

"Sorry. Let me find those sweats-"

"No, I'm fine, really. It's all fine."

 

Over dinner, of which Sherlock ate most of the dessert and half of what John put on his own plate, they discussed politics, of which John was unfortunately too well versed, and Sherlock avoided like the plague due to his brother's 'involvement' in her Majesty's service, though he wasn't clear which part; then they moved onto the state of the criminal classes, which Sherlock could teach a post-graduate course in; let's just say his opinion of their recent activities was that they were poor to middling. They managed to finish half of the food and the weather was never mentioned.

"I think your clothes may be wearable now."

"Yeah."

"I had a really nice time...god - I sound like a teenager-"

"No, me too. I haven't met anyone as interesting as you in a very long time."

"Uhm...thanks?"

"No. Most people bore me to tears, you...you are still a mystery. I can usually... I can tell someone's life story to them in ten minutes and scare them off. You. You are complicated...."

"I'd like to see you again."

"How about tomorrow morning, over breakfast?"

 

"A bit not good?"

"Uhm, no, it's perfect, I just, uhm, I'm out of practice..."

"Don't worry, I'm definitely a rank amateur."

"You mean...?"

"If you don't mind..."

"As long as you don't." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rating will change....idiot boys in love...err...lust...something...

"Let me grab a shower? I had a long shift, then the pub..."

"Go ahead, I'm not going anywhere."

John reached across his makeshift dinner table, threaded his fingers into Sherlock's curls and with a gentle tug, pulled him into a kiss.

He sat back as Sherlock let out a small gasp. He blinked a couple of times then whispered, "you definitely can do that again when you come back..."

"Good. Sensitive follicles, eh?"

"..and lips...I guess..."

"I won't be long, promise."

Sherlock hung up the robe and slid under the covers, trying to figure out how not to appear nervous when John returned wearing only a towel around his hips.

"John-"

"Sorry, I haven't, uhm, done anything with anyone since I got back, thought the scars might turn people off."

"No-I was going to say, you are one of most attractive men I've ever seen. The scars are just an added bonus. Damn. That didn't come out right, I mean, they don't turn me off, they are quite...remarkable."

"Remarkable...yeah..."

"Why are you still all the way over there?"

"Hmmm? Uhm. I'm nervous."

"You invaded Afghanistan..."

"Not on my own, and you look more dangerous than anything I faced over there."

"Remember, I'm a clean slate, so to speak. I have nothing to compare you to...damn...you really need to come over here and stop me from talking. I'm sure you must have some idea how to do that?"

"Yeah...I may have a thought or two." He draped the towel over the chair and made his way over to Sherlock, who had most assuredly lost the ability to speak.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No plot here whatsoever; if you want to skip this chapter, morning after will be along presently...sometime...

"Uhm...do you mind lying on your back, so I can, hmm...look at you?" Sherlock whispered when he found his voice again.

It was John's turn to go mute; after a bit of rearranging, he found himself looking up at Sherlock's face, and had lost the ability to think. His eyes glittered and smiled, the rosy lips were slightly parted and he sighed quietly:

"John." 

No one had ever spoken his name like that before, like it was precious, and he closed his eyes.

"No, please, look at me?"

John slowly opened his eyes.

"I, uhm, was out walking after a case tonight when I bumped into you. I probably would have walked until dawn if you hadn't stopped me. I hadn't even realized that it was raining....may I touch you?

All John could do was nod.

Sherlock straddled John's thighs with his long, lean legs, and he cautiously used a single index finger to trace John's lips before he kissed him softly. John sighed and closed his eyes again as Sherlock scooted back a bit and somehow discovered that one spot, right along his jawline that made him purr. There was no other word for it.

Sherlock snorted as he stretched out his full height on top of John. "Purring...hmmm..."

"Oh. God- you feel..."

John felt Sherlock's entire body tremble as he rested his mop of curls against his chest. "Hey, it's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want -"

Sherlock shook his head, then gingerly placed his hand over John's left shoulder, simply feeling all of it. He was no longer thinking, cataloguing data or memorizing; he was just feeling the texture beneath his fingers, the raggedness and smooth...feeling how it felt to be connected to the man beneath him, still warm and slightly damp from the shower, chest to chest, John's right arm wrapping protectively around him, somehow his hips had slotted neatly into John's and all he sensed was stillness, then a warmth, no...it was more electric...sparks...and he understood...

"Thank you," he whispered.

"What for?"

Sherlock propped himself up to look at John, who looked to be as shaken as he was and hesitated. "This may sound..."

"Go ahead. Now I'm curious," John grinned down at him.

"I never fully understood why people will kill 'for love'. I think I do now. I mean, I always understood the chemistry, but not how it felt. We haven't even done anything, but just feeling you beneath me, connected to you...I...uhm..."

"Yeah, I...uhm...know what you mean, I felt it too....mind if we trade places?"

John maneouvered them so they were now side by side, front to front. He placed his left hand over Sherlock's heart and felt it racing. "Tonight, this was the last place I wanted to be, this damn bedsit is not where I thought I'd end up at this point in my life, but, now, next to you, I can't imagine being anywhere else."

"Touch me, please?"

John nodded and moved his hand over Sherlock's hip, then up his side, until his fingers found those curls again. He pulled him into a kiss, a feather touch, and felt a jolt as their hips touched.

"Jooohnnn..."

"Yeah...I know..."

"Kiss me again?"

John brought them even closer together and he kissed him like he had never kissed anyone before; Sherlock's lips invited him in, and he realized he could happily spend the rest of his life just kissing this man without a single regret.

He rolled Sherlock onto his back, and looked into his eyes; green and blue danced with gold, his full lips seemed to be trying to formulate a question or theorize something, but nothing escaped. He simply nodded and John smiled as he kissed his way down his throat, then across his chest, finding sensitive nipples already pebbling...

"All right?"

"Hmmm..." Sherlock placed his long fingers into John's hair to ground himself. John sighed and ran his fingers along Sherlock inner thigh, and felt him lurch into his touch.

"I've got you, yeah?"

"Please....I need...I want..."

"Anything."

"Touch me..."

"Yeah, hold on a sec." He reached under his pillow, and found his lube. He slicked up his fingers and whispered, "I'm right here, you can do whatever you need to, yeah? I want to hear you, don't be embarrassed, I want this to be good for you." 

Sherlock bit his lip, but nodded as John wrapped his fingers around his length and stroked him gently.

"Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhh, Johhhhhhn, harder...more...uhhggmmmmmmphhhhhh..."

John worked him until he felt his body tense, then wrapped his lips around Sherlock's glistening head and heard the most beautiful sounds come from the man beneath him as he swallowed wave after wave of come. He popped off as he felt Sherlock start to come down and settled down next to him, his arm draped around him, fingers found fingers and they held on tightly to each other as they fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the morning after and a proposal...

John rolled his shoulder and opened his eyes first, blinking from the rare March sunlight that filtered through the blinds, and looked down, suddenly recalling that he hadn't slept alone. Sherlock was still sound asleep, his back curved against John's chest, his raven curls covering his face. John looked at his clock, 10 am...he couldn't remember the last time he had slept so many hours without a nightmare. He sat up and rubbed his face, trying not to over think the last few hours. He looked over at the man next to him, and realized he had no idea what to do next. 

"Tea?" mumbled the man next to him. "Then, I am going to take you to breakfast, and try to convince you to move in with me."

"Right. Tea. Breakfast...huh?"

"I have a flat in central London, it's way too much space for just myself, there's even an extra bedroom if you will be wanting it...I tend to play the violin at odd hours, leave uhm... 'specimens' in the fridge, and sometimes I won't talk for days...or I won't stop talking-"

"Yes."

"...I don't buy milk, and-what?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"Yes?"

"And, no, I don't think I will need the extra bedroom-"

"Give me a minute, need to think it over..."

"Arse."

"Okay...just don't mess with my sock index."

"I don't even want to know."

"Tea, John, I need tea."

"Bossy."

"But first, I need a kiss."

"Oh... do you now?"

"Yes."

"I think that could be arranged."

Sherlock rolled over and looked up at John for the first time that morning, his eyes sparkling and lips still a bit puffy from the night before. John drew in his breath sharply.

"God-you are beautiful."

Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head.

"No. You are, by far, the most exquisitely made human being I've ever seen."

"If you don't stop, we'll never make it out of bed."

"Right. Tea."

"John."

"Oh. Right-"

John grinned down at Sherlock and kissed him lightly on the nose, then his left cheek, right cheek and finally those love-bitten lips. 

"Tea, right? Two spoons of sugar?"

Sherlock threw a pillow at his head.


	6. Chapter 6

Eventually, after showering, dressing and fussing with misbehaving hair and random snogging sessions, they managed to make it out the door a little before noon.

"Lunch, then?"

"Hmmm...in the mood for a Full English still...I'm starving."

"You're one of those..."

"What?"

"You eat regularly, like at mealtimes, sleep when it's time to sleep..."

"Uhm, most of the time, that is what people do."

"Some people..."

"Another not so good thing...?"

"If I'm on a case, I usually won't eat or sleep til I solve it."

"Okaaay..."

"Okay? Just like that?"

"How about I agree to catch you if you are about to fall asleep standing up? And I will feed you before you pass out?"

Sherlock stopped walking and turned to look John over. He nodded, then stretched his hand out to capture John's hand in his, and continued his long stride.

"Full English it is, then you can come meet your new landlady."

"New landlady?"

"I texted Mrs. Hudson while you were in the shower, she is beyond tickled. She is in competition with her best friend who owns the flats next door to us; Mrs. Turner has 'married ones'...she just about dropped her phone when I told her about you, uhm, us."

John stopped and looked at the fingers wrapped around his. "You...me...we... are already an 'us'?"

"Is it a bit too much, too soon?" Sherlock whispered, finally a bit unsure of himself.

"No. God, no. I want..."

"What, John, what do you want?"

"I want everything, only with you, just you. But, I was afraid it was too much, last night was just perfect, I'm afraid I'll muck it up."

"Will you give me a chance, John? We can muck it up together?"

"Yes. I'd like nothing better."

Sherlock remembered a hole in the wall diner that always served breakfast, and never let him pay, as he had helped them rebuild after a fire. John got his Full English (technically it was a half English as Sherlock managed to steal half of the food from his plate)

"You're smarter than you look."

"Yeah, I've heard that before."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter on, you could see this story as a continuation of "Natter" if you choose to, it just wrote itself that way.

"Mrs. Hudson, this is-"

"John Watson...Sherlock texted me all about you. Come in, come in!"

John walked into the building, took a deep breath and knew he was home. Lemon polish and tea, scones and...he wasn't sure exactly what it was, but it was home.

Sherlock grinned and took him by the hand, leading, or rather pulling him gently up the seventeen steps to the flat.

Old books, dust, and, yeah, Sherlock, was what he had sensed when he walked in. 

"It's..."

"...perfect, isn't it?"

John nodded, then grabbed Sherlock's face and pulled him down into a lengthy, breathtaking kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Dr. Watson, what do you think?" Mrs. Hudson was opening the drapes, disturbing the dust and letting the sunlight in, casting everything in a warm, sepia tone.

"Perfect, brilliant, just lovely, Mrs Hudson."

"Now, as I've reminded Sherlock here time after time, I'm not your housekeeper, but I will be keeping my eye on you boys. If you need anything just let me know. Oh, Sherlock, he's just as lovely as you said..."

"Obviously. I think one of your stories is on, isn't it?"

"Of course, not to worry, I do have ear plugs, Mrs. Turner's married ones can get quite boisterous, and these old buildings..."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson..."

Sherlock leaned against the door and sighed, once their landlady's heels could be heard clicking down the stairs. "She's a good egg, I've known her all my life...she does tend to pop up now and then..."

"Come 'ere."

"John?" Sherlock's voice had become little more than a whisper; a deep, needy, whimper escaped from his lips.

"I think we should try out our new accommodations, bless this house, perhaps?...and I do honestly believe you are wearing entirely too much clothing for such a beautiful March afternoon..."

"John...."

Without another word, Sherlock removed his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat stand, then hesitantly made his way over to John.

John took both of Sherlock's hands in his. "I know we haven't known each other long, all right, less than 24 hours...but I know I already love you. I just needed you to know that."

*

*

*

"Sherlock?"

"Damn it...I knew it was too..."

"No...no, it's uhm...fine...it's all fine...I-"

"No, don't, it's all right, let's just go have a lie-down, yeah? See what happens?

"I do, John. I'm just..."

"I know, it's a lot, But, I'm still me from last night. Look at me?"

"Oh, John. It is you."

"There you are."

 

Sherlock took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then nodded. He took John's hand and led him to his...no...their bedroom, and shut the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit angsty, but not for long...promise

Somehow it was different in the daylight. Everything was sharper, more real, more fragile...he felt more naked than he had last night, even though he was still fully clothed. The scars that were hidden by the darkness would be all too visible in the afternoon brightness.

"Hey, breathe for me, look in my eyes, focus on me, love."

"John...I need to...tell you..."

"What, love?"

"I think it's just best to show you." He undid his cuffs slowly, then rolled up his sleeves to just above his elbows, uncovering the old track marks that he had almost allowed himself to forget. He closed his eyes and waited. Waited for John's eyes to change from love to disappointment, waited for him to simply walk away. He waited, afraid to breathe, afraid to open his eyes, then felt John run his fingers lightly over his scars, then cover them in kisses. He felt tears rushing to his eyes from somewhere, and slowly dropped to his knees, or would have if John hadn't held him up in his arms.

"I have you. Shh, it's okay, let it go, love." Eventually John guided him to the floor, carefully, then cradled him in his strong arms, and rocked him as he wept silently for what seemed an eternity.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"It's part of who I am, John, I've always needed something that could take me out of myself when my brain doesn't have a puzzle to work on, or an experiment to keep me distracted. It used to be drugs, for a long time, it was the only thing that allowed me to find peace, or at least still the noise. Now, I'm afraid you will become a substitute. You will just become my newest addiction. And then, when you become tired of me, you will leave. I know-"

"Stop."

"I know, because everyone leaves...everyone." He curled in on himself, and tried to pull away.

"I am not everyone, I thought you could deduce that, with that big, beautiful brain of yours."

"But..."

"Come on, lets go lie down, no, we don't need to undress. Just let me hold you, yeah? I'll tell you the story of my scars, if you want. We'll nap, go collect my junk, then come home and order take-away."

"You mean you still want to be with me? Even after..."

"Yes. I still want to be with you, I want to have your permission to love you, every bit of you. But, you have to let me love you."

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at John's open face, and saw only empathy and hope, not judgment and disappointment as he had so many times before. He reached up and touched John's strong jaw, tightened against the possibility that Sherlock couldn't let him in, couldn't trust him enough to share his life, flaws and all.

"Oh, please, John, I want, I want so much to get this right, please don't give up on me."

"Never, love."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, all, John's turn...gotta keep em on their toes for a bit longer...

John settled on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, then nodded for Sherlock to join him, trying to give him some control of their next steps. Sherlock decided to take off his shirt and trousers and change into his pajamas, he just needed to feel softness against his skin, which had suddenly felt itchy to him.

Then he looked at John, who above all things, was still there, he could so easily have disappeared and he would have understood. He is still here. Breathe. This is the man who loves me, the man who knows more than what I can tell him. He just knows....

"Sherlock..."

He stood at the side of the bed, and realized he needed to make a choice. This is your chance, your chance to be happy. You already know he's a good man, a gorgeous, understanding man who might be able to withstand whatever I throw at him. He's just asking for a chance.

"John."

John stretched his hand out to him, inviting him into his arms, into their bed. Sherlock nodded and took his hand; John offered him a small smile, and helped him into the bed, adjusting so Sherlock could rest his head in John's lap. John's fingers found a rhythm, gently running his fingers through his tangled mass of hair, and in no time, Sherlock found himself calmer than he ever remembered.

 

"It was supposed to be an easy patrol. I wasn't even supposed to be on that convoy, but their doc had just shipped home that morning, so I filled in. We were just going to visit a school, it was supposed to be a safe area, but we were in a war, after all. There are no real safe spaces in a war."

Sherlock's fingers started drawing circles on his thigh, soft, gentle touches, and John realized he had finally found someone who wanted to hear his story, not interrupt, not ask how something made him feel, but would simply be there for him and take his story into his heart, and share the pain with him.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" He whispered.

"Please, tell me, John. I want to know, all of it."

John nodded and cleared his throat. "We were almost to the school, when we noticed things looked off. The houses seemed to be deserted, the stores were empty, no one was about. It was then that the first rounds were fired at our SUVs. I was lucky to be in the last of three. The first two were completely taken apart. Our driver was able to find a bit of shelter before he was killed next to me. I took control of the vehicle and tried to get everyone else out safely. Luckily our radio was still working, so I was able to send our coordinates to our base, right before more rounds took out the radio, destroyed most of the vehicle. We had a few weapons that we had managed to grab when we jumped out of the SUV, so we were able to hold them off for about half an hour..."

"Shit."

"John, breathe, it's just me, here with you, you are safe-"

"I've never told anyone, Sherlock. I knew all those guys, knew their kids...out of everyone from that convoy, I'm the only one who made it home. Eleven guys, Sherlock, good guys, younger guys, kids, really, compared to me, they were kids...and I made it home...why? Why, Sherlock?"

"I can't answer that for you, love, but, my own selfish thought is that you weren't done yet. You had more to do, you were meant to find me, to find us." Sherlock sat up and wiped the silent tears from John's eyes, and kissed him softly. "If you want to tell me, I'm here to listen, you don't have to carry it alone anymore, John. You aren't alone anymore, John."

"God-Sherlock-" John buried his face onto Sherlock's shoulder, and wept for those he had lost, grieved for their loved ones, for the time he had wasted, the moments when all he wanted was just to stop feeling the pain of taking one breath after another, one step after another...when he realized he would never be a surgeon again...never be quite whole again.

He held onto the remarkable man who had wrapped his arms and legs around him, letting him simply feel everything. Everything he had avoided for the last year, was burbling to the surface, threatening to shut him down.

"No, John, come back, breathe for me, please? I love you, God help me, I love you. Or maybe I should say, God help you, because, to be honest, I'm nothing but trouble."

It was Sherlock's poke at himself that broke through to John. He snorted, then chuckled, and then his laughter rocked the bed, and soon both of them were lying on their backs trying to catch their breaths. 

"You are an amazing, beautiful man, Sherlock Holmes, and I would like nothing better than to undress you, and make love to you until you are screaming my name, but..."

"But?"

"I am absolutely starving, you just removed a good chunk of the chips on my shoulders, and I need..."

"Panang Curry, extra spicy, loads of rice and good beer."

"Yes, I'm not even going to ask how you knew that, but first you are going to join me in the shower...please?"

"Yes, John."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit more for the fans of the explicit...

They stood before one another, silent and a bit hesitant, until Sherlock asked, "May I?"

John nodded as Sherlock knelt in front of him. He unzipped his trousers, and slid them down, then gently lifted each of John's feet, and removed the soft cordouroys, taking the time to fold them and place them on a chair. Then he stood and John raised his arms, allowing Sherlock to pull the oatmeal coloured jumper over his head.

"You should wear blue, John." Sherlock whispered as he slowly unbuttoned the shirt, taking his time to admire each section of chest that was revealed, running his long fingers over John's well-defined muscles, reveling in the small moans that were escaping from the man who was shivering before him. Finally, he pushed the shirt from his shoulders and he buried his face against John's barely softening abs, breathing him in. John put his hands into Sherlock's hair, holding on as his breath caught. Sherlock looked up with blown eyes, and John nodded again. Sherlock smiled and traced John's erection through his bright red briefs with his gifted fingers.

"Sher--"

"Shhhh."

"It's been so long, I--"

Sherlock held onto John's hips to still them both. He stood, and removed his tattered dressing gown, then his t shirt. and lastly his bottoms, revealing his own needs, without any shame or hesitation. He looked down at John's face, and watched the emotions wash over the strong features he was just beginning to map. Slight panic led into sheer lust as a faint blush coloured his cheeks, and he sighed.

"I want you, you have no idea how much," John whispered, as he slipped out of his pants, exposing the truth of the statement as his cock was already pressed into his abdomen, beginning to weep, simply from his lover's warm gaze.

"John, you are lovely; you remarkable, gorgeous man; the shower can wait a bit longer, get back on that bed, love."

He didn't have to be told twice. Sherlock straddled him and kissed him soundly, then licked and sucked his way down his chest, over his navel, until he reached the golden thatch of hair, where he pressed his face, taking in John's scent for a long moment.

They both moaned as he moved lower, placing a soft kiss on John's freely leaking head, then using his tongue, he dipped into the slit, tasting his love for the first time. John shook and whimpered, trying not to thrust into that mouth, that wonderful, warm mouth that was now taking him all in, as he had also begun to stroke John's bollocks, simultaneously.... and all too soon, Sherlock was wiping him clean with a damp, warm flannel.

"Hey," was all he could manage when he finally found a remnant of his voice.

"Hey, yourself." Sherlock was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, John's head was resting in his lap, Sherlock's arms were lightly draped around him.

"That was..."

"...okay?" Sherlock grinned down at him, eyes twinkling.

"Uhm, not the word I was thinking of, but since you seem to have shut down my ability to remember most of the words I swear I knew just uhm, five minutes..."

"Try half an hour, you were fast asleep when I came back with water for you."

"Damn-I'm sorr-"

"Don't you dare apologize, the expression on your face as you came was the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen in my life. I'm not even going to try to describe how you sounded...my remarkable John, my beautiful, brilliant, John."

"What about--"

"Me? We both need that shower, love...seems your voice has the ability to hmmm...push me over the edge..."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"God, I'm starving...."

"I ordered the curry while you were asleep, we've got just enough time for a quick shower, they will be here in 12 minutes..."

"You are astonishing."

Sherlock grinned shyly at him, then kissed his forehead. "No, love, you are."


	11. Chapter 11

As promised, the take-away arrived in exactly twelve minutes, a double order of Panang Curry with Chicken, extra spicy, loads of rice, and somehow, a six pack of a good lager.

"Don't tell me..."

"Was able to figure out who was pilfering from the till, and I tip really well." Sherlock smirked and stole another red pepper from John's bowl.

They were both dressed in bathrobes, freshly scrubbed from the shower, and were stealing from each other's bowls as they watched a Bond movie on the telly. Sherlock spent most of the time watching John watch the movie, reveling in simply being near him, discovering what made him smile, occasionally catching his eye and leaning in for a kiss, just a brief meeting of lips, sweet and soft.

 

His buzzing phone broke into their quiet evening-

 

"Got a case for you, at least a seven-assuming you aren't busy?" - GL

"Matter of fact...never mind, just send me the details, be there shortly- SH

 

"Feel up to seeing what I do?"

"A case?"

"Might be able to use your medical expertise, as well...have to warn you, most people... hmmm, don't like me much, especially crime scene workers...no one sees this side of me. Just you. So, if I act a bit like an arse, it's because that's what people expect to see."

"So no snogging over the corpse, got it."

"I'm different out in the world, John. It's the only way I can do what I do."

John looked in his eyes, and watched him change; he became colder, distant, he became that man who almost ran him down in the rain.

"I understand, love."

Sherlock nodded sharply. "I'll introduce you as my assistant...I think that will even shut Donovan up for a moment or two...time to put the armour on..."

Another text buzzed.

"We'll need to leave as soon as we're dressed, if you brought your weapon with you, you might bring it along."

"How did you kn-?"

Sherlock shook his head and whispered, "don't ask me now. Later, love." He then kissed John as if he was afraid he would vanish when he blinked.

"I'm here, Sherlock. I'm not so easily scared off. Remember, I invaded Afghanistan."


	12. Chapter 12

"Taxi!"

Within seconds, a taxi arrived, as if it had been waiting for them to walk out the door. It was still warm, the sun was just beginning to set, and yet, John shivered. He thought about reaching for Sherlock's hand to reassure both of them, but the detective had turned to stare out the window, seeming to forget John was even there. John took a deep breath and straightened up, felt for his Browning, and readied himself for whatever awaited them at the crime scene.

 

"Well, hello, Freak...and who is this?"

"Donovan. My assistant, John Watson. How is Anderson, back with the wife, or still slumming with you?"

"Assistant? You? Since when?"

"Did he follow you home?"

"No, I picked him up at a pub."

*

*

"Yeah...right...whatever. Sir- Freak is here."

"Donovan, right?" He whispered under his breath even though Sherlock was already meters away badgering the photographer and roaring at a newbie who had actually stopped his work to ask for the detective's autograph.

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"Call Sherlock 'Freak' again, and I will knock you down. I have no problem punching an arsehole. Even if that arsehole happens to be a female detective with the Yard. Got me?"

Donovan may be an arsehole, but she had worked her way through the ranks the hard way, and was smart enough to know that the man meant business. She was the department's boxing champ three years running, but could hear something in his voice that she didn't want to tangle with.

"Got it. Sir- Sherlock and his bulldog are here."

"Yes, sir..no sir, not an actual dog...I'll send them up-"

 

"Sherlock...thank you for- who is this?"

"Lestrade, my new assistant, Dr. John Watson."

"Assistant? Since when does the great Sherlock Holmes need an assistant?"

"Can we focus on the case? That's why you called me here, isn't it?"

"Right."

Lestrade lifted the sheet, and revealed the body of a well-dressed woman.

"Female, mid to late 30s, apparently single, one bullet to the chest, looks to be murder..."

"But...?"

"But...something just smells off."

"Besides the fact that she's in her early 50s, was married, possibly recently divorced, I'd say a nasty one, and she committed suicide but wanted it to look like murder to get back at the ex who dumped her for his much younger..."

"What?"

"Gray roots starting to show, scars from recent eye, jaw and chin work, didn't save her marriage though...the marriage? Evident from the tan lines where the rings used to be...."

"Also, looks like she had been having chemo treatments, discolouration of the skin, I saw it in my oncology rotation...oh, sorry, didn't mean to jump in-"

"No, very good, Jo- Dr. Watson- I would have missed that, thank you-"

"Unusual way to kill yourself, a bullet to the chest?"

"{ think she was sending her an ex a message, and after all that work, do you think she would have ruined it?"

"Sherlock-"

"Hmmm?"

"Where's the gun?"

"Lestrade-gun?"

"That's the kicker, guys, no weapon."

"How long has she been here?"

"We figure she died late last night, early this morning."

"It rained all day yesterday, late into the evening...she's wearing heels...not a spot of mud on them, floor is spotless..." Sherlock sniffs the air, "...bleach, industrial strength...someone cleaned up for her...possibly a friend...lover, maybe even helped her pull the trigger...when you find out who she is, find out who took her to her treatments and sat with her...I'd say they were smart enough to either get rid of the gun or plant it in her husband's house...maybe used a gun he had given her in their 'courting days'? I think we're done here?"

"Uhm, yeah, right-hey, Sherlock, I didn't get to thank you for your help on the last one, you kinda vanished on me, everything ok? It was a bit of a rough one and I-"

"Fine. I'm uhm, fine. Uhm, thank you for asking-"

"Erm, hmmm...yer uhm, welcome?"

"Dr. Watson? Don't we have that uhm thing, we were supposed to do?"

"Hmmm? Yeah, that other, uhm case? We kind of left it midway through..."

"Must dash."

Lestrade watched them leave, at first a bit puzzled, then it hit him...damn, Sherlock found himself a doctor who carries a Browning...maybe I'll see about getting him a special permit. If he's going to be with Sherlock, he'll need it.

 

"Brilliant. Absolutely astonishing...."

"Hmmm. How about here?"

"Ohhhhhhh....Johhhhhhn...."

"And here?"

"Uhhhhhhhhh....John."

"Uhhuhhhhh?"

"Why are we still wearing all of these clothes, and why aren't we in bed yet?"

"I do believe you started it-"

"Johhhhnnnnn-"

"Love?"

"What did you say to Donovan?"

"Not much..."

"John...."

"Just merely let her know that if she ever called you freak again, I'd knock her out."

"You didn't-"

"I did."

"I love you-"

"I love you more."

"Not possible."

"Bed!"

"Yes, love."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enter Mycroft...you know he has to see where things stand...

"Yooo-hooo, you boys decent?"

"Mornin' Mrs. H- Sherlock's still asleep, need a cuppa?"

"No, thank you, lovie, his brother is here..."

"Brother? Oh, the 'British Government'....right, sure, show him up..."

"Now, dear, he is a bit posh and nosy, but he worries, just be nice."

"Will do."

 

"Dr. John Hamish Watson?"

"Where did you dig up my middle name...never mind, you have your 'sources' I'm sure, but, yes, that's the name that will go on my headstone...maybe just the 'H'..."

"Late of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers?"

"Yes."

"What is your relationship to my brother?"

"Hmm, let's see, for the last two days, flatmate, friend and oh, yeah, lover, but, I think you knew all that."

"Quite. At this rate, may I expect to hear a happy announcement by the end of the week?"

"I think that would be between me and your brother, hmmm?"

"I am willing to pay you a substantial amount in exchange for information..."

"No."

"You haven't heard my offer."

"No."

"You are very loyal, very quickly...trust issues..."

"Haven't seen her in months, waste of my time."

"You do understand you are exchanging one battlefield for another, Dr. Watson."

"I love your brother, Mr. Holmes, completely and without hesitation."

"He has issues..."

"Don't we all?"

"If you hurt him..."

"Understood."

"Good. Yes, well...look at the time...must dash..."

"Sure you won't stay for a cuppa, we can shoot the breeze til Sherlock gets up..."

"Perhaps another time..."

John snorted as Mycroft dashed down the stairs, leaving behind his umbrella.

 

"Brother dear, John was so disappointed that you left without a cuppa this morning...how decidedly not cricket of you. And you did forget your lovely ivory-handled brolly here...may I assume Anthea will pick up later?" -S

"Just checking up on you...a goldfish, Sherlock...how...common of you....I do hope he makes you happy." -M

"Oh, yes, forgot to say, John's firearm is now legal for him to carry, I was able to twist a few arms..." -M

"Thank you, Myc, yes, he makes me very happy." -S

"Good." -M


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and more angst, mentions of suicidal thoughts, could be triggering.

They returned to John's bedsit shortly after Mycroft's departure, the mid-morning light almost making the room a bit cheerful. John pulled out the large duffel bag that he arrived with a year ago, packed his clothes, laptop, his few books and toiletries, then sat on the bed next to Sherlock, who had been observing him carefully.

"That's it. The sheets and towels aren't even mine, they came with the place..."

Sherlock took John's hand, and put it to his lips.

"If I hadn't met you..."

Sherlock waited patiently.

"...I was planning on, uhm...damn it...do you know...how close?"

Sherlock nodded.

"When I walked into this room the first time, there was nothing. I couldn't tell anything about you from where you lived, which meant you weren't planning on staying around that long. Could be it was because you were going to move, but the little I did know about you pointed to a different scenario. Other than your dog tags, there were no mementos of your service, so I assumed you had kept your service revolver..."

"and yet.."

"You invited a total stranger here, to get out of the rain, to get warm and dry. You are a doctor, John. Yes, you were a soldier, but your first instinct is to heal, to help those in need. You'd been thinking about killing yourself for months. Always putting it off. Maybe once or twice you actually loaded it, but you would put it on your desk and pace the floor until you talked yourself out of it..."

"...I was raised Catholic...no...I'm not Catholic anymore, war has a way of making one lose faith in a loving God...I don't have any family, other than a sister I haven't seen in years...couldn't find work, the nightmares...damn..I hadn't really slept for months until that night. You saved me that night."

"You saved yourself, John. You saw someone in need and you reached out, it would have been easy to just walk past me, but you didn't. You had tea, a warm room, a shared loo and a single bed to share, but more than that John, you offered yourself. You believed you had something to offer, someone who really wants to end their life would not have done what you did two nights ago."

They sat side by side for a long moment in silence, Sherlock held John's hand in his, reminding him that he was still there.

"I'm still the same person I was three days ago, Sherlock. I'm still damaged goods, no one will hire me, I still jump at the slightest noises..."

"The difference is, you know you are loved. You are important to me. You belong...we belong to each other, already, and you know that. You are necessary John Hamish Watson...yes, I heard the entire conversation you had with my brother. No one has ever made Mycroft leave a room so fast. Ever. And to leave his favourite umbrella behind? I didn't realize he could even stand without one. You are so much stronger than you think, if you want to get a GP job, we'll find one, but for now, would it be enough just to work with me? You could start a blog..."

"You're as bad as my therapist..."

"I don't mean a diary, I mean you could write about our cases, maybe we could get clients outside of the work that Lestrade brings to us..."

"Our cases?"

"I need a partner, someone to stand between me and the morons, who can be another set of eyes, and with your medical expertise..."

"All right...all right..."

"Let's go drop your bag off at home and I'll take you to Angelo's."

"Got him off a murder charge?"

"Nope. Three of them."

"Impossible."

"No, just improbable."


	15. Chapter 15

"Sherrrrr-LOCK!" Angelo wrapped him up in a huge bear hug, and kissed him on both cheeks. "It's been too long!"

"Angelo- this is John...my..."

"Date?"

"Hmmm...a bit more than that, but yes, you could call him that I suppose."

"He needs feeding up...where have you been hiding him, hmmmm?"

"Haven't had enough time to..."

"Ahh, never mind...the shells, I think, yes, and the antipasto to start...wine...your table is always ready, I'll bring a candle...go sit, I'll bring over some bread..."

"So, how did you get him off?"

"I managed to prove to Lestrade that Angelo was robbing a jewelry story five miles from where a triple homicide occurred, it was a case of mistaken identity."

"He saved me from going to prison!" Angelo returned with a candle and a bottle of Pinot Noir and two glasses."

"You still went to prison, Angelo."

"But it could have been worse."

"True, I suppose."

"How is your Mrs. Hudson? I miss seeing her..."

"She's the same as always, Angelo. I'll send her over for dinner soon, promise."

Angelo nodded, then disappeared to yell at his staff in the back.

"He has a soft spot for Mrs. Hudson, always has."

John watched the candlelight dance in Sherlock's green eyes, a memory flickering through them.

"She took me in, well, my parents asked her to rent out her extra flat to me after I got out of rehab the last time. She was our cook on the estate where I grew up...she's the reason I'm still here. I was in rehab five times before it took. She gave me my coat, on my 30th birthday, had it made for me, encouraged me to bug Lestrade enough to allow me to work on cases. She was the closest thing I had to a friend before I met you. More like family, I guess."

John reached across the table and laid his hand over Sherlock's, and Sherlock blinked hard then smiled hesitantly. "Are you my family now, John?" He asked in a whisper.

"I'd like that very much."

They were sitting staring quietly into each other's eyes when Angelo brought over their starters.

"At last, you found him, eh, Sherlock?"

"Yes, Angelo. I believe I have."

"He's a lucky man."

"No, Angelo, I am the fortunate one." Sherlock leaned over and captured John's lips, kissing him sweetly before John ducked down to hide the blush that was spreading over his cheeks.

Angelo knew enough to bring one extra large portion and an extra plate, as he learned long ago that Sherlock would eat only what he would sneak from his companion's plate. John and Angelo shared a grin of understanding, and Angelo left them to it.

They took their time eating, telling each other bits of their stories, the good, the bad and the completely outrageous. By the end of lunch, they had finished two bottles of wine, and were laughing so hard it hurt. They stood, carefully, and Angelo gave them a tiramisu to give to Mrs Hudson. Sherlock promised again that she would be in soon.

"Home, love?" John sighed against Sherlock's lips.

"Home." He took John's arm, and they walked the two blocks back to Baker Street. They delivered the dessert to Mrs. Hudson, and after a bit of a chat, made their way upstairs.

"Baths. John, uhm, how do you feel about baths?"

"With or without bubbles?"

"With, of course."

"Of course."

"How would you feel about sharing a bath with me?"

John took off his coat and shoes and socks, then stood in front of Sherlock and removed his coat and scarf, and unbuttoned the top button of the indigo silk shirt which did something to his green eyes that took his breath away. He nuzzled Sherlock's jawline, breathing in the scent of Angelo's, the dust and noise of London, and his expensive shampoo, the scents of home. His home.

"I'd like nothing better, love."


	16. Chapter 16

They made their way slowly to the loo, losing bits of clothing as they went, a shirt there, trousers tossed in a corner, pants left in the doorway. John turned on the water and added the bath gel; Sherlock took a deep breath, taking in lavender, and a touch of almond, and John. The scent of John, his oatmeal soap, the wine and garlic bread from lunch almost made him dizzy with need. What has he done to me? I never needed anyone before, what is it that makes him different?

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Hey, bath is ready, love."

He slipped into the tub, and watched as John stepped in and sat in front of him. 

"Oh."

"Mmmmm."

"John-"

"Yeah?"

"This is-"

"...nice?"

"Yeahhh."

"Never shared a bath before?'"

"No..."

"Why don't you wash my back?"

"Okay..."

John sat up a bit, giving Sherlock access to his back, and his first real look at the entrance wound from a Taliban weapon. He marveled at how something so small, so seemingly insignificant could take away so much from John, yet give Sherlock almost everything. He scooped up a handful of bubbles and began, first, simply exploring, his long fingers traced John's strong muscles, which brought to mind the one class from Uni that he actually tolerated, to be honest, he enjoyed learning and memorizing...he was brought back to the present when John pressed back against him, moaning his name.

"Sherlock, your fingers are magic, love."

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, and pressed his lips to the scar, feeling John still, then relax in his arms. "You saved me that night, John."

"Hmmm?"

"If you hadn't stopped me when you did..."

John turned in his arms and looked at Sherlock's face, eyes closed, curls dampened from the steam of the bath, lovely and fragile. "Tell me?"

"I wanted, I needed something so badly that night, I was headed towards...where my old dealer used to be...but you found me instead. You gave me a puzzle, and tea...in one night, you took me apart and put me back together."

"I don't understand, love? What puzzle did I give you?"

"You, John. You gave me you." Sherlock opened his eyes and touched John's face. "I'll never know all of your pieces, all of what makes you...you...a never ending puzzle, love."

John stared in wonder at the man in front of him, then reached his soapy hands into Sherlock's curls and pulled him into a deep, mind altering kiss.

"Mmmmm...Johhhhnn."

"The water is getting cold, love, let's get out and...."

"I want you."

"I know, I want you, too, but first, we need to get out and dry off...and tea...oh God, maybe we can skip the tea..."

Sherlock grinned and stepped out of the tub, he grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself off, then offered John his hand. 

"I promise you a glorious tea....after..."

"Hmmm...yes, love...after..."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before the glorious tea....nothing but sweet explicitness here...

Sherlock led John into their bedroom. Their bedroom. John's few belongings had been put away, his clock and laptop sat on the side table next to his side of the bed...

"Sherlock..."

"John?"

"Lie down, love?"

"uh-hummm"

Sherlock laid in the middle of his...their bed, leaned against the headboard and waited. 

John stood at the foot of the bed, and simply looked, looked at the unbelievably gorgeous, brilliant man who belonged to him. After a long stillness, John quietly moved on to the bed, crawling over his lover's pale, flawless body to kiss the lips that had overtaken his nightmares. Sherlock moaned softly and threw his arms around John's neck, pulling him against his bath warmed body, needing, just needing to feel John everywhere.

"Goddddd. Sher-"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I want, I need you, John. I want you inside me, please?"

"God...lube?"

"Drawer, and condoms..."

"Cheeky bastard..."

"Your cheeky bastard..."

John grinned, and kissed him again, then kissed down his ridiculous neck, and to his nipples, where he teased and licked and sucked until Sherlock was begging for mercy. He moved down slowly, taking his time to touch every inch of the sighing, squirming man beneath him. Finally, John paused, and looked into Sherlock's utterly debauched face, his curls disheveled, lips parted, and he nodded.

"I'm going to go slow, if it's too much, I'll stop. I promise, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded and whispered, "I trust you, I want this, I want you-"

"I know, love."

John buried his nose in the sweetest place he had ever known, and took a deep breath. He sat between Sherlock's spread legs, placed a pillow under Sherlock's hips, grabbed the lube, and slicked his fingers. "It's going to feel a bit cold at first, and new, just talk to me, yeah?"

John stroked Sherlock's already leaking cock, then moved to his bollocks, where he gently kissed them.

"John...."

"I know, love."

His fingers found the familiar pucker. He had done this before, made other men come by barely touching them, but this was different, this was Sherlock, he needed this to be perfect for him. He took his time gently massaging until he heard Sherlock breathing softly, and relax a bit, before he pushed the tip of his index finger in, barely breaching the tightness.

"Ohhhhh..."

"Do you want me stop?"

Sherlock shook his head, "Go on, please?"

John nodded and pushed in slowly, feeling the warmth around his finger was almost unbearable. "God, you feel so..."

"More, please?" Sherlock breathed.

"God, yes." John pulled out his index finger and added another, two fingers softly found their way inside.

"Hmmmmmmmm...."

"All right?"

"Mmmmm...morrrrre, please?"

A third finger slipped in, and John could feel Sherlock letting him in, wanting, needing him...it was almost too much.

"A minute, love." He ripped open the condom packet and rolled on the condom. He slicked himself up, added more lube to Sherlock's opening and whispered softly. "This is going to feel...uhm, more...just breathe, and let me in, love."

Again, Sherlock nodded and watched as John slowly pushed inside.

"Unnnnnnnnmmmmmmmm...."

"Okay?"

"More. More, John, God---I feel you, just more, please?"

"Yes, love."

John placed Sherlock's legs around his shoulders, and pushed in until he was fully seated. "Sher-"

"Johhhhhn."

"Mmmmmmm...you just feel so....God....how did I get so lucky....."

"Move, please, John I need to feel you move...."

"Yes...God, yes...."

He pulled out a bit, and thrust back in, slowly at first, then faster as he felt Sherlock respond...soon he was almost lost...

"John...touch me, pleeeeease...I need..."

John blinked and grasped Sherlock's weeping cock in his strong, gentle fingers, stroking him until he felt Sherlock's body tense. "Wait for me, love."

"Johhhhhnnnnnn...."

Sherlock's voice pushed John over the edge; he pulled out completely, one last time, then slammed into him, bringing tears to his eyes as he heard a voice that belonged to him, but he had never heard it quite like that before, joy, love, and hope washed away all the pain from the last year as he heard Sherlock scream his name again, as they both came harder than he thought possible.

After a moment, he pulled out carefully, removed the condom, tied it and tossed it in the bin. He somehow managed to get up and retrieve a warm, damp flannel from the loo and gently wash Sherlock's still shaking body, he placed it on the table, then wrapped his arms and legs around him, before pulling the duvet over them.

"Love?"

"John?"

"Are you back?"

"Seem to be...you are...amazing....I didn't know, John...never understood..."

"Go to sleep love, I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Sherlock nodded, then pushed back closer into John, and drifted off to sleep. John tightened his grip around the man he loved more than he could possibly ever tell him, and kissed his mop of curls before he too was sound asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and tea...

John opened his eyes to find Sherlock watching him from across the room. He was fully dressed. He had showered, styled his hair and dressed without waking him up. He was sitting in the chair, fingers steepled under his chin.

"When I woke up, you were still asleep, wrapped around me, then you sighed and rolled over. I watched you sleep for half an hour, wondered what you dreamed about that made you sleep so peacefully..."

"Mmmm...you, actually. More specifically, it was your beautiful hands, this time."

"I couldn't bear to wake you up, but I didn't know what I was supposed to do...what the procedure was...so...I uhm...got dressed...to take you to tea...not sure if that was the correct thing to do. Then I didn't know what else to do...so I sat down and just..."

"Come here?" John whispered. "Please?"

Sherlock stood and walked to the bed and sat down on the edge.

"It's fine, it's all fine."

"I couldn't believe you were still here when I woke up. You...made love to me...and you stayed next to me...wrapped around me like I was precious."

"You are. Look at me, Sherlock."

Sherlock turned and looked at John in the eyes for the time since they made love. He saw the same man, the same dark blue eyes smiled at him, he was the same, except the sparkle in his eyes sang out to him.

"John...."

"Yeah..."

"You should get ready...tea will be ready soon..."

"Where we headed?"

"Downstairs."

"Downst-"

"Mrs. Hudson does an amazing Afternoon Tea, she wanted to do this for us, for you. I could tell she had been baking all morning when we returned from Angelo's..."

"Berk."

"Go...shower." Sherlock bent over and kissed him softly, then stood up and walked out of the room. "If I kiss you anymore, we won't get downstairs til tomorrow. Mrs. Hudson would kill me for ruining her sponge cake..."

John laughed and threw a pillow in Sherlock's general direction. He got up, showered and dressed in 10 minutes. A new record. Sherlock was playing something on his violin, something that sounded simple, but John knew it wasn't. It was sweet and haunting at the same time. He had known he played, he had been warned, but the beauty that came from his lover's hands was almost too much for him. He sat and closed his eyes, and let the music override anything else that was in his mind.

"John...?"

"Mmmm?"

"I didn't hear you come in the room-"

"Should we go down?"

"Uhm, yeah. Right. Tea. I promised you a glorious tea..."

And it was. John hadn't been this pampered since he had been a child and his Nana would take him to a hotel for a special High Tea on his birthday. Tea, tiny sandwiches, scones, chocolate cake and the sponge cake with jam...of course, Mrs. Hudson wanted to know everything, who his people were, where he went to Uni...the fifth and sixth degrees..he knew it was because she wanted to be sure of him. Sure that he was good enough for Sherlock. Sherlock stole bits and nibbles, but mostly sat back and watched, with a slight 'disinterested' look on his face. 

When Mrs. Hudson went back into the kitchen John whispered, "I'll get you back for this!"

"For what?" Sherlock grinned back, innocently. "It is a glorious tea, is it not, love?"

Yes. John had to agree, it was the best tea of his life. He shook his head, and stole a kiss before Mrs. Hudson returned.

"I love you."

"I love you, more than you can possible imagine."


	19. Chapter 19

"Oh...my....God...I'll never eat again!"

Sherlock laughed and gently nudged John back up the seventeen steps to their flat. "In a few hours, you'll be dying for a curry!"

"Nooo..."

Sherlock opened the door, and carefully dumped John on to the couch. They may have gone for a walk to take the edge off their indulgent tea, but the weather had changed again; the early brightness hid behind darkening clouds and soon the sky had opened up.

"Over all, I believe you passed Mrs. Hudson's interrogation with flying colours..."

"I find her much more frightening than Mycroft..."

"That she is. She is the one person he is terrified of."

"Really?"

"She has known him from birth. She knows his bark is much worse than his bite, and she has loads of stories she can pull out any time he gets a bit too full of himself."

"Mmmmm...Sherlock?"

"Hmmm?"

"Would you mind playing that piece you played while I was getting ready earlier, I missed the beginning. I don't know anything about classical music, but it was beautiful."

"Uhm...it's one of my pieces, you really liked it?"

"It stopped my brain from whirling, absolutely breathtaking...but please don't take it personally if I fall asleep. You have changed my sleeping habits for the better; you seem to have chased the nightmares away."

Sherlock nodded, bent down to kiss John, then went to the window. He watched the rain for a moment, then picked up his bow and violin and began to play. After ten minutes, he turned, as he heard soft snoring from the couch. He smiled, then turned back again towards the window, and played until his fingers tired; then laid his instrument in its case, walked to the couch, curled up against his lover, and was soon fast asleep.

 

Mrs. Hudson gently pushed the door open an hour later, and smiled to herself. "My boys..." She covered them up, and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Sherlock's mess of curls. "You found a good one, love. Don't let him go."

"No, Mrs. H, I won't. Not ever." 

"Go back to sleep, sweetie."

"Hmmmmm..." He snuggled tighter around John and was soon lost to his dreams again.

Mrs. Hudson returned to her flat, where she and Mrs Turner were watching their stories. "Ruth, you may have married ones, but my boys up there are the real thing."


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit of an epilogue...we leave the boys in their natural habitat...a crime scene, obviously...

"Oh, God," sighed Donovan. "Did you have to call in the lovebirds on this one? I mean seriously, why can't they just get married and be miserable like the rest of you..."

Lestrade laughed. It had been a little over a year since Sherlock had met John. Now that the honeymoon was over, John would meet him for a pint when Sherlock was lost in an experiment, or just when he needed a break from the flat. The last time they met to watch a match, his phone buzzed, John's eyes lit up, and he shook his head. "The idiot needs more milk. Even after a year, I have no idea what he does with it all..." He finished his pint, threw down his share and said good night. As John left, Lestrade overheard him on his phone, "yes, love, on my way home...milk, biscuits and two gallons of bleach? What did you do this time? Never mind...yeah. Yes..I love you...no...I love you more, yes, even when you...what...again? No, it's fine, yes, you like me in the blue one more any way, I know...home soon..."

As usual, the 'lovebirds' were bickering over something as John paid off the cabbie and stomped after the detective. "I just don't understand why..."

"Lestrade? You said you had an 8, where is it?"

"Good morning to you too, Sherlock- John- how're things?"

"Fabulous...another jumper...ah...never mind..."

"John! Tell me what you think, it's almost like the other three, but something isn't quite right..."

"Coming..."


End file.
